


Graveyard of Abandoned Fic

by singingwithoutwords



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:13:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingwithoutwords/pseuds/singingwithoutwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place to lay my abandoned fics to rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Author's Note

This is going to be a place for me to keep old fics I haven't worked on in ages and have no enthusiasm to finish.

If something here inspires you, please feel free to run with it- I only ask that you link me if/when you post it.

If I feel a story needs warnings, they will be in a note at the beginning of that story.

**Do not ask me to work more on any of the stories I post here.**

If they're in here, it means I am done with them.  They will never be finished.  This is a graveyard, and I am not a necromancer.

I also am not going to be adding any tags to this story.

The only reason it has a fandom tag is because that's a required field.

Enter at your own risk, basically.


	2. ARC (sci-fi, ensemble)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sci-fi space travel Avengers AU, copious notes and not much else

**STORY**

 

Tony Stark was dying.  Not a fast death, not a flashy one.  Slow, painful, and inevitable, because the hospital was one of the first buildings they hit, so even if he made it out of these caves the equipment needed to save him was so much melted plastic in a heap of rubble.

In a way, it was fitting.  Everyone else was being careful not to mention it, but they all knew.  The delayed detonations and the temporary security network made sure everyone in the central tower – and anyone with access to the feeds or close enough to see with their own eyes – knew.  Whoever the bastards were who'd attacked them, the weapons they'd used were Stark weapons.  His designs.  _His_ hardware, directed by _his_ programming, dropping on innocent civilians.  So it was fitting that he was going to die, too, and in the worst way possible.

He didn't bother trying to hide the pain he was in.  That was impossible, anyway.  He couldn't remember – didn't want to remember – exactly how many jagged scraps of metal were crawling their way through him toward his heart, but he knew it was a lot.  Too many.  In these conditions, it had been all the doctor could do just to slow them down.

It probably would have been kinder not to bother.

There was movement to his left, out in the center of the cave, and soft voices.  He recognized Pepper's, and felt a stab of pain that had nothing to do with the shrapnel.  She didn't deserve this.  She'd wanted to stay behind at HQ, but he'd whined and begged until she gave in, and now she was stuck underground on some godforsaken planet at the edge of explored space, and she was probably going to die, too.

“I recognize that look,” a nearer, clearer voice said, and someone sat down next to Tony's makeshift bed.  “That's a look of I dun fucked up.”

“Congratulations, you're a genius,” Tony responded, sighing.  “Can I help you with something, or are you just here to state the obvious?”

“It's my turn to sit on you until you take your pills.  And don't think I won't just because you're wounded.”

“Happy'll punch you,”

“Happy will help me.”

Tony smiled.  He kind of liked Barton.  The guy was a bit weird, but in the weeks spent building up the city and the days since it burned to the ground, Tony had learned that weird was good.  “Fine.  Gimme the goddamn pills.”

Barton handed over two small bright red capsules, watching Tony intently while he swallowed them.  He'd tried to refuse, the first couple of times the doc had given them to him, but Barton had actually literally _sat on him_ until he'd given in.  Tony had thought about pretending to take them, but without the relief they provided, he wouldn't have been able to sneak them back into their meager medical supplies, so why bother?

“You gonna fight us on food today?” Barton asked.  “Sam cooked.”

Tony sighed.  “I suppose it's pointless to remind you that feeding me is a waste of resources?”

“I can always shoot us some more,” Barton said with a shrug.  “I'm sure the planet won't run out of wildlife on us.”

Tony sighed again.  He didn't feel like having this discussion right now.  “Whatever.”

Barton snorted, helping Tony sit up enough to eat with a minimum of aid.  He had no idea what name the survey team had given the thing he was eating, but he did know they were plentiful, and that Wilson had missed his true calling when he'd opted for psychiatry, because he cooked them up deliciously.  If Tony was going to die, at least he knew for certain his last meal was going to be a good one.

They ate in almost companionable silence for a few minutes before Tony cleared his throat, glancing past Barton to the rest of their party.

“Any luck contacting anyone?” he asked.

Barton shook his head.  “Coulson's still trying, but he says someone's probably blocking him.”

Tony nodded, finishing his portion and setting the plate aside.  “Supplies?”

“Holding out.  Thank God for indigenous lifeforms, huh?”

“Don't get too used to it.  You guys should be off this rock in a month at most.”

Barton rolled his eyes with a put-upon sigh.  “I'm going to tell Happy you're being fatalistic again.”

“Stop threatening me with my own bodyguard,” Tony whined.

“Stop acting like a little shit who needs to be threatened, then,” Barton said, grinning.

Tony laughed, even though it hurt.  If he had to die like this, at least it was around people he actually liked.  The company almost made the whole 'dying in a cave' thing bearable.

 

**NOTES**

 

In a far future space-faring AU setting, Stark Interstellar is sponsoring a colony planet, and Tony goes along as a PR-type thing to help set up the main city.  The Ten Rings are a group of space pirates, and Obi hires them to attack the colony while Tony is there to get rid of him.  Obi even picked applicant colonists who should rightly have been rejected because of poor health, lack of survival skills, psychological problems, etc, just to be sure no one would be able to defend Tony in the attack.

Except mankind is nothing if not adaptable and determined to live, so the attack isn't completely successful.  Tony and a group of survivors escape the massacre into the wilderness.  Tony was injured badly and is slowly dying, but in the wild they encounter a being native to the planet that bonds with him in order to save his life, sensing in him potential even Tony can't seem to see.

Meanwhile this version of SHIELD is trying to get around Obi's roadblocking to find out what really happened, since one of the colonists was an agent of theirs.  Tony and co. and their new ally have to fend off further assassination attempts by the Rings (possibly a mole among the survivors, cool alien can only sense the thoughts of people it's bonded to) while trying to establish contact with someone off-world so they can be rescued.  Dunno what to do after that, though.

Basically I just want Tony with a symbiotic sapient alien embedded in his chest instead of a machine.

 

CHARACTERS

**Tony**

CEO and driving genius behind Stark Interstellar.  He was supposed to spend a few weeks on the planet as a PR do and then head home, but instead was heavily wounded in the Ten Rings' attack on Gulmira.  He was dragged to relative safety in a system of underground caves, where he met and bonded with one of the native lifeforms.  He feels personally responsible for the colony being attacked, and is willing to do anything to get them all safely off-planet.

**Pepper**

Tony's personal assistant.  Without her, Tony would probably have wound up settling the wrong planet or something.  She's fluent in Tony-speak and well-versed in making sure everyone is taken care of.

**Happy**

Tony's bodyguard.  Where Tony goes, he goes, so of course he was on Gulmira.  His steadfast acceptance of pretty much everything insane going on around him makes him a solid rock for the others to lean on when things threaten to overwhelm them.

**Steve**

is a halfbreed of human/alien; his mother was a human member of the original survey team, and his father was one of the aliens who chose to assume a human form to be with Sarah, however briefly.  He was able to unlock his mental potential, but his physical potential is locked tight until he arrives on the planet.  He was the colony's chief architect and city planner.

**Bucky**

Steve's childhood friend who worries about him constantly.  He honestly never wanted to leave their home world, but since Steve was dead set on coming, Bucky was dead set on coming with him.  At some point after the initial attack, he loses his left arm, which is replaced by one of the native lifeforms.

**Clint**

an accomplished hunter on multiple worlds with just enough of a record that most colonies would turn him down.  He can use any firearm or projectile weapon with scary accuracy, but has always favored the bow and arrow, and was pleased to be accepted for a colony low-tech enough that he was encouraged to stick to his favorite tools.  He keeps the survivors fed.

**Bruce**

a biochemist who came along to see if anything on the planet could be safely used by the colonists.  He was surprised and frankly a little suspicious when he was accepted despite his documented anger issues, and it was only due to his justified paranoia that any of them survived the initial attack, as he had an escape handy just in case.

**Natasha**

signed on as a laborer using a false identity.  She's actually a wanted criminal who hoped to forge a new life for herself on Gulmira.  She's an amazing fighter, and though she seems cold, she keenly feels the weight of the lives she's taken, and is determined to protect the rest of the group any way she can.

**Coulson**

the colony's head of communications, which makes an excellent cover for contacting SHIELD without anyone knowing.  He's one of SHIELD's best, which would be why Fury chose him to go undercover while Tony was off on potentially dangerous new worlds where he could wind up dead fairly quickly.

**Sam**

the colony's chief headshrinker.  He's doing what he can, but frankly half these people were crazy to begin with, so he can only do so much.  He has a military background that comes in handy, and he may or may not eventually bond with a native that takes the form of wings.

**Thor**

an alien from the planet Asgard who finds humans fascinating.  He came along purely to see how humans went about setting up a colony; Asgard only conquers vassal planets, never settling elsewhere themselves, so the whole process was new to him.  He mostly acted as a laborer, and now helps Natasha with the fighting when needed.

**Loki**

Thor's adopted brother.  He ran away from Asgard shortly after discovering he was adopted, and just happened to show up on Gulmira shortly after Thor disappeared there.  He maintains emphatically that he in no way was ever worried about Thor, it's all a coincidence, stop rolling your eyes at him this instant.

**Fury**

head of SHIELD.  He had a history with Tony's father that Tony is unaware of, and a soft spot for Tony himself.  Behind his stoic professional face, he's doing everything possible to re-establish contact with Gulmira and rescue any survivors.  Which hopefully include Tony.

**Hill**

Fury's second-in-command, who is not fooled by her boss for an instant.  She's the one doing most of the actual work, since Fury as director can't appear too invested in the search, and Hill is better at dealing with assholes like Stane, anyway.

**Rhodey**

Tony's best friend and liaison with the space navy.  He wanted to come along, but was unable to get leave for it, and now is the most vocal in trying to find out what the hell happened on Gulmira.

 

            ALIENS

They're non-corporeal at birth and through childhood, becoming an adult once they settle on a material form, which they keep until death.  They can form symbiotic relationships with other lifeforms.  The ones who bond with members of the party are equal to teenagers.


	3. unnamed (sci-fi, bucky/tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> other completely unrelated sci-fi au
> 
> I like sci-fi aus, okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor mentions of torture, a bit of violence here and there

The _Iron Star_ drifted in all her gutted glory, a silent wreck to be added to the countless others that littered the emptiness of space.  She'd stopped hemorrhaging air hours ago.  Her engines, though dead, still registered faint residual heat through her hull.  Her emergency beacon was so much scrap material somewhere off her starboard bow, blasted to pieces before it could broadcast a single proper mayday.  The incomplete message it had managed would be nearly impossible to understand, and it would be some time before anyone traced it back to this sector and found what was left of the once-mighty merchant ship.

There was no trace of the ship that had attacked the _Iron Star_.  No trail led away from her.  None of the debris was foreign.  She'd been unarmed except for standard anti-object guns, meant for handling rogue asteroids, not heavily armed warships.  The uneven fight had lasted mere minutes, and there was no living soul left on board.  When the dead were finally collected and tallied, and it became apparent that one was missing, the would-be rescuers would have no idea where to even start.

 

Entering FTL flight was bad enough at the best of times.  With a throbbing head, a possibly-broken arm, and at least four cracked ribs, it was downright torture.  Tony was pretty sure he passed out; whether it was before or after he threw up, though, he couldn't tell you.  It was by far the worst transfer he'd ever suffered through, and he'd suffered through a lot of them.

Goon #1 made disgusted noises under his breath, but didn't let go of Tony's arm (the not-probably-broken one).  Tony wasn't sure what they expected him to do, besides maybe collapse in a puddle of his own vomit, but he had to give the guy points for dedication.

The painful pressure of transfer finally eased enough that Tony could breathe again, and he lifted his head enough to get something of a look at his surroundings.

They were in a medbay that had probably started out as military.  There were a lot more cots than you normally saw in a bay this size, with a certain uniformity of placement that no civilian contractor ever seemed able to recreate.  Every surface was sealed metal, and most of the basic equipment was obviously original.  The rest of the equipment was eye-searing, to be brutally honest, with way too many flashing lights and beeps for Tony's head to handle.

At the center of the showy chaos was a small, pudgy little man with eyeglasses and a bland smile, wearing an old-fashioned white lab coat and holding a datapad in one hand.

“Mr. Stark,” the pudgy man said, his smile somehow managing to become even more bland.  “So good of you to join us.  How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Tony said honestly.  “Also like I may vomit again, so fair warning.  Who are you clowns supposed to be?”

Being kidnapped was not a new thing for Tony.  He'd been dealing with this particular hazard of the rich and famous since he was born (no, seriously, an enterprising nurse had tried to smuggle him out of the hospital before he even made it to the infant ward).  He was long past being scared, or even really apprehensive.  There'd be threats, some beating, maybe a bit of torture, a ransom demand or two, and he'd be returned with nothing to show but a few bruises.  The whole song and dance was pretty much routine by this point.

Pudgy's smile got _even blander,_ how was he _doing_ that?  “Oh, no one of any great importance; just a little organization called Hydra.  Perhaps you've heard of us?”

“A rumor here and there, I think,” Tony said, outwardly calm.  “Name sounds familiar, anyway.”

Inwardly, Tony was _freaking the fuck out_.

Of _course_ he knew who Hydra was- everybody born in the past few centuries knew who Hydra was.  They were pirates, but not your usual run-of-the-mill motley crew, or even your slightly less usual pirate fleet.  They were a pirate _nation_ , an entire armada of ships with a base somewhere in the unexplored reaches of the galaxy.  They didn't just raid backwater colonies or lone merchant ships; they were known to attack and slaughter entire fleets, major port planets, the military, even research stations.  They stole information as much as resources, and – most important at the moment – people.  People that were invariably never heard from again.

There wasn't going to be a ransom this time.

Goon #1 yanked on Tony's arm, breaking him out of his thoughts and jostling his head so it gave a sharp, especially unpleasant throb.  “He got roughed up a bit,” he said, directing Tony to the nearest cot and shoving him into a sitting position.  “Look him over.  Last thing we want is to deliver damaged goods.”

The man in the lab coat tutted, shaking his head, and set his datapad down.  “No, that would not be good,” he agreed, ambling across the patch of open floorspace to Tony's cot.  Goon #1 stepped back out of the way, and Goon #2 lifted his firearm so it was in Tony's direct line of sight.  “Let's have a look at you, Mr. Stark.  Mr. Rumlow, if you would check that the tank is ready for me?”

Goon #1 nodded, edging past Pudgy and further into the medbay, to the one section of wall that didn't have anchors or equipment on it.  Instead, it sported a row of clear domes at about shoulder height, roughly a foot across, each with a flat data screen underneath and slightly to the right.  All of the screens were dark except one.  Tony was too far away to see what was on the lit screen, but he had a sinking feeling he knew what it was, anyway: a coldsleep tank.

“You are _not_ putting me in that thing,” he said, loudly enough that Rumlow could hear him, too.

“Sure we are,” Goon #2 said cheerfully, grinning when Tony's scathing retort was cut off but a short yelp of surprise and pain.  The quack in the lab coat had taken advantage of his distraction to cut open the front of his shirt, shoving it out of the way and jostling his maybe-broken-after-all arm.

“You're really not,” he finally managed to say, with a minimum of gasping while his ribs were seen to.

“We're certainly not gonna babysit you the whole way home.”

“No, seriously,” Tony said. “This is my serious face- you do not want to put me on ice, because _it will kill me_.”

Goon #2 rolled his eyes.  “Sure it will.”

“It's in my public file.  Everyone who kidnaps me knows this.  If you inject me with any sort of prep drug, I'll have a severe allergic reaction.  Like of the coughing-up-blood-and-then-dying variety.” Since Goon #2 was obviously not the brains of this outfit, Tony turned his attention to Rumlow. “You didn't go through all that trouble to grab me just to kill me, right?”

“He makes a good point,” Rumlow said.  “Doc?”

“Seriously?” Goon #2 demanded, earning himself a glare and a 'can it, Rollins' from Rumlow.

“I would say better safe than sorry,” Doc mused, finishing with Tony's ribs.  “The trip isn't that long, and certainly even a man of Tony Stark's genius cannot take this ship alone.”

“Oh, come on!” Rollins complained.  “He's obviously making it up- nobody's allergic to the prep injection!”

“We aren't risking it,” Rumlow repeated firmly.  “Because I don't feel like explaining it to Pierce if we manage to off his new toy before he even sees the guy.  He can keep the asset company.”

“I thought we _weren't_ trying to kill him.”

“Very funny, dickwad.  Go set something up for our new guest; I'll stay with the doc and make sure he behaves.”

There was a brief silence, then Rollins left the bay, muttering under his breath.  Rumlow left the coldsleep tanks alone and took over the spot by the door, hand on his firearm, and the doctor went back to patching Tony up.

 

Tony's arm, as it turned out, was not broken- just really, really bruised.  All it needed was a bandage and some painkillers.  All it got was a bandage.  Apparently they were very keen to keep him alive, but didn't have any spare fucks for whether or not he was comfortable.

Once the doctor was satisfied he wasn't going to die on them, Rumlow hauled Tony to his feet and directed him out of the medbay and down the corridor.  His initial guess that the vessel was re-purposed military was supported by the faint rows of chevrons still on the walls, faded and barely visible against the dull metal: red toward the armory, blue toward medical, green toward crew quarters and mess, yellow toward engineering, darker gray toward the bridge.  Tony'd been on hundreds of ships with those same chevrons on the walls, crisp and freshly painted; the ship had definitely been military at one point, but hadn't been for a while.  He could think of a few reasons Hydra might want to send a military ship to grab him, and all of them boiled down to making it harder to track him.  Sure, he had no family and only a few real friends, but SI needed him, and Obi would at least _try_ to look for him.  Hydra must be aware of that and taking precautions.

To take his mind off his arm and ribs, he wondered what the asset was.  Some kind of animal?  He'd seen some of the bodies while they were dragging him to the boarding pod, and they'd been mauled as much as killed.  But they were willing to not chance putting him on ice to keep him alive, so he doubted they'd actually lock him up with a crazed animal, right?

The vessel obviously wasn't very big; they only walked for five, maybe ten minutes before they reached their destination.  If Tony had to guess, he'd say it had probably started its life as a storeroom of some sort.  He could feel the thrum of the engines through the deck plating, meaning they were somewhere near the engineering section, and the rest of the short corridor was bare.  Depending on the type of ship, it could possibly have been spare quarters for the engineering crew, but then he'd expect to see more than one door.

Rumlow, ever the professional, rested the muzzle of his gun against Tony's lower spine and used his free hand to work the control panel.  Seven digit combo, fingerprint scan, didn't look like original hardware.  Difficult to access and trip, especially from the inside with no tools, but he could probably manage, with enough time.

The door was heavy, and the mechanisms protested audibly as it slid open.  Also not original.  Door itself was a lost cause, but if he couldn't trip the lock, maybe he could work around it.

The hold behind the door was larger than Tony had expected, about the size of his private bunk on the _Iron Star_ , which was pretty damn big given the probable size of this ship.  There was no furniture that Tony could see, just a pallet in one corner with a single pillow and cover, and what had to be the asset.

The asset, it turned out, was a man.  A bit on the tall side, stockily built, wearing a patched-together black shipsuit that probably did zero good against an actual vacuum but still covered him from neck to toes, minus his left arm, which looked cybernetic.  His hair was dark brown and long, tangled and uneven and damp, but his face was cleanly shaven and completely devoid of any emotion.  He simply stared at them – no, just at Rumlow – metal fingers twitching against his thigh.

Rumlow shifted, moving Tony in front of him.  “This man is a prisoner,” he explained slowly, as if speaking to an idiot.  “Do not let him leave this hold.  Disabling force is allowed.  _Do not kill him_.  Understood?”

The man nodded once, switching his gaze to Tony and tracking him as Rumlow shoved him into the hold.  He stumbled, nearly losing his balance, but the strange man made no move to help him, just watched impassively as he managed to get himself to the wall and lean against it for balance.

“You two get along, now,” Rumlow said cheerfully, and the door slid shut.  It closed slower than it opened- he needed to figure out the exact mechanics there, maybe he could jam it somehow...

Tony counted to twenty, scanning the room for any obvious surveillance, then pushed away from the wall.  Obi and possibly the military would be looking for him, but he couldn't just sit around on his ass and hope rescue showed up in time.  Howard Stark's son was no damsel in distress, that was for sure.  All he needed was a way out of this cell, a weapon, and enough time to find the escape pods that had to be in engineering.  It would have supplies and enough fuel to get him out of range, especially if he jettisoned while in FTL; they'd never find him then.

Tony glanced at his cellmate, who seemed to have decided staring at the wall was the most productive use of his time.  Either he was the worst guard in history, or he was good enough that he didn't think he actually needed to keep an eye on Tony.  Tony shrugged to himself, sighing, and started to pace the perimeter of the hold, trailing his good hand along the wall.

The instant his hand touched the door, the asset was on him, yanking him away and all but throwing him against the adjacent wall.  At least that answered that question.  It also reminded him he was injured, so maybe getting himself tossed around like a doll wasn't the best idea he'd ever had.

“Okay,” Tony said placatingly, holding up both hands in surrender.  “Door is off-limits.  Got it.”

The asset continued to stare at him for several long moments, then turned and stalked toward the pallet in the corner without a word, dropping onto it cross-legged.

Tony lowered his hands, watching the asset (he had to come up with a better name for the guy, referring to an actual human being as 'the asset' just felt wrong) for any signs he was in trouble again.

“So,” he said, sliding down the wall away from the door.  “I'm Tony.  You are?”

No response.

“Come on, if the big guys get their way, we'll be brothers in arms- you can at least tell me your name, right?”

“Okay,” Tony said, shrugging.  “Not a talker.  That's okay, not everyone talks.  Though talking would go a long way to taking my mind off the arm your buddies fucked up when they kidnapped me.”

Still nothing.  This was going to be a long trip.

Tony sighed, turning his attention back to his surroundings.  The walls and ceiling were smooth metal, no fixtures or decoration.  There was a chemical toilet bolted in one corner, the makeshift bed the asset was sitting on, and literally nothing else.  He couldn't even see any security cameras.  Either they were afraid of their own asset, or they had a great deal of respect for Tony's ability to blow shit up using nothing but found objects.

Not to blow his own horn or anything, but it was probably the latter.

 

There was an extra blanket folded at the foot of the pallet, but no extra pallet.  Some Hydra asshole was probably laughing it up right now.

 

“So,” Tony said, not able to stand the silence anymore.  “Who gets the bed, you or me?  I mean, you've laid a pretty good claim, already sitting on it and all, but I am kind of a guest here, so...”

 

“Okay, you're not willing to move and I'm not keen on sleeping on the floor, so how about we share?  That sound good?”

 

“Look, gimme some kind of sign here- I'm cold, shirtless, and tired, and I'd like to maybe get some sleep here soon.”

The asset finally looked up at him, staring blankly for a long moment, then shifted slightly to the side.

 

“Honestly, this is not the worst bed I've slept in.  There are no bugs, for starters.  No bugs is definitely a plus.  This one time I got completely blitzed on the _Rosso Italiano_ ; woke up a week later in a farming hut on Telva.  It took me _months_ to get rid of everything I picked up on that bender.  Never use thionite unsupervised.  I learned that the hard way.”

 

[more one-sided conversation]

 

The Hydra mooks left them alone while Tony ate, but they made sure to collect everything afterward, accounting for every utensil and wrapper, and not even letting him save some of the actual food for later.  He still couldn't go near the door without getting Real Steel's back up, and there was literally nothing to do but wait.  It was driving Tony insane.  So, lacking any other distraction, he talked.

 

“I'm like 98.3% sure this is a refitted prowler.  I _hate_ prowlers, they have the touchiest systems.  We're probably all going to die because some idiot saw the cool bird-of-prey profile and thought 'gee, let's add a fuckton of weapons to that- that'll be awesome'.  Idiots.”

 

“I mean, I could give them the benefit of the doubt, but they're pirates and they kidnapped me, so fuck 'em.”

 

“You sure you don't want any?  Come on, it's mean of you to make me eat it all myself.”

 

[Tony is given actual food, Bucky is given a nutrient injection- Tony offers Bucky some food, Bucky rejects it]

 

“I mean, it's not _completely_ tasteless.  There's a bit of taste.  Not sure if I could truthfully describe said taste as 'good', but it _is_ there.”

 

“You know, if you never eat and never talk, your jaw muscles are going to completely atrophy, which would utterly destroy your devastatingly handsome face.  And that, my friend, would be a true tragedy.”

 

 

“I asked her to marry me.  Pepper, not the supermodel.  In my defense, I was drunk enough not to remember that she deserves way better than me.  I had to buy her a lot of shoes to make up for that one, but at least she didn't quit.”

 

[Tony plans and talks, continues to offer Bucky part of every meal he's given, Bucky finally accepts]

 

Heavy Metal reached out slowly, keeping one eye on Tony, and picked up what was left of the sandwich.  He straightened just as slowly and took a bite, still watching Tony as if he might get mad, and Tony made sure to smile encouragingly the whole time.

He finished it in two bites with a grimace, and Tony laughed.

“Yeah, like I keep telling you, the food here is awful.  See if I ever book this cruise again.”

He couldn't be absolutely sure, but he thought he saw a hint of a smile there.

 

[Tony figures out that Stane sold him out to Hydra]

 

“And Rhodey – you remember Rhodey, I told you about him – Rhodey looks me dead in the eye and he says to me 'Tony, man, I love you deeply.  You're like a brother to me.  I'm going to kill you.'  So I figured as long as I was leaving, I might as well test out the jetpack.  I got away, but the crash was a bit too spectacular even for me.”

 

“So, much as I don't want to admit it, there's really only one explanation- Obi.  He's the only one who knew where I was headed who wasn't also on the ship.  He's the one who suggested we shut down communications and change course once we were clear of the system.  He's literally the only way Hydra could have known where to find us.”

 

[Bucky speaks for the first time, Tony learns his name is James]

 

“James.”

The word was spoken quiet and rough, and nearly lost under Tony's constant stream of chatter, and he very nearly didn't even hear it.  He imagined the look he turned on his roomy was shocked, at the very least.

“It's James.” James repeated, ducking his head slightly.  “My name is James.”

Tony couldn't help but grin widely, holding out his hand.  “Nice to meet you, James.”

James smiled back, small and crooked, and clasped Tony's hand in his.  “Pleasure's all mine.”

 

[they actually start getting sort of friendly, though never if anyone else is in the room]

 

It surprised Tony the first time James answered one of his rambling anecdotes with a story of his own.  It was disjointed, out of order, and obviously missing large chunks of information, but it was funny, and it meant that he was recovering from whatever Hydra had done to fuck with his memories.

The second time was a bit more expected.  A few characters from the first story made a reappearance, and one of them got a name: Dum Dum.

(Tony called his robots Dummy and You, he had no room to make fun of what other people named their kids.)

The long hours between meals became filled less with Tony's constant stream of words and more with James' slow, halting retelling of the bits and pieces of his own life he managed to drag back to the surface.

 

When the lights were out and it was pitch dark, Tony would lie on his side with his back pressed against James, each of them wrapped in their own blanket, and listen to the faint whine and click of James' metal fist clenching and relaxing rhythmically until he was able to doze for a while.  When Tony couldn't sleep, he would tap out patterns against the pallet, listening to James's breath catch over whatever he saw in his dreams.

When neither of them could sleep, Tony would stare into the darkness and listen while James whispered what Hydra had done to him, made him do.  What they might do to him again, or even to Tony if they felt it would be beneficial.

 

[Bucky begins to remember things, confiding them in Tony in case he's wiped again]

 

“Sometimes I remember a guy.  I feel like he's a brother, maybe.  Maybe not.  I don't know.  I can't remember his name or anything, just patching him up.  Constantly.”

 

[the ship is attacked; Tony is taken out and ordered to fix the damage, with Bucky still acting as his guard; Tony slips a few surprises into his repairs]

 

It turned out he was right about the ship being a prowler, and also about none of Hydra's goons knowing the first damn thing about prowlers.  Half the systems they told him to fix had obviously been barely working even before the attack.  They'd definitely slapped on way too many weapons systems, ramming them in wherever they could find space, which in turn had all but crippled their communications relay and fucked up the nav systems to the point of being pretty much useless in FTL.  No wonder they dropped out so often; they needed to, to make sure they weren't going to plow right into a star.

 

[one of Tony's surprises is discovered; he's punished, and Bucky is wiped again]

 

When they brought James back, Tony felt a stomach-churning wave of nausea and deja vu overtake him.  James was walking between two goons, unrestrained, head down, eyes staring blankly at the floor.

 

 

“What did you do to him, you sick fucks?”

“We fixed him.”

“You mean you broke him again,” Tony spat.  Seeing James so silent and blank had him ready to fight the entire goddamn ship with his bare hands.  “He was fixing himself just fine.”

“Apparently the asset isn't the only one laboring under some misconceptions here,” Rumlow commented, sighing. “He's not a person, he's a weapon.  We point him at something, he kills it.  Get used to the idea, because Pierce sure doesn't want you for your dazzling good looks.”

“Fuck you,” Tony said.

“Not my scene,” Rumlow replied glibly.  “But hey, if you order him to, the asset'll probably do you.  Can't guarantee he'll be any good, but-”

Tony lunged for Rumlow, not caring that he was the only person not armed right now, not caring that any one of them was fully capable of killing him on accident even if they probably wouldn't deliberately; all he was thinking was how badly he wanted to punch the bastard in the face.

Rumlow took a step back, and James filled the resulting space, blocking Tony's fist and kicking him in the stomach hard enough to slam him into the wall.

 

“James, please, talk to me,” Tony begged.  “Don't do this to me.  I can't see you like this again.”

James just stared at him blankly, exactly as robotic and emotionless as he'd been when they first met.

 

[Bucky goes back to how he was when they first met; Tony spends their every moment alone telling Bucky all the things Bucky told him about, trying to jog his memory]

 

“That one kid from Brooklyn Base.  You told me all about him.  Never did remember his name, but he was someone special to you.  Seriously, you made me jealous sometimes.” Tony huffed a small laugh.  “You told me about this one time, when he tried to fight the base commander for paving over a garden or some shit.”

 

“Then there was the time Jones nearly got you all arrested on Nat'ya- you remember that?”

 

[the ship is attacked again, they get boarded this time]

 

[Bucky is taken out to fight, with Rumlow guarding Tony; he breaks programming and sides with the attackers, who take the ship]

 

“Ah!  Sit back down.  You and I are gonna stay right here until the party's over.  And I'm pissed enough I'm missing out, so you probably shouldn't upset me even more.  We understand each other?”

 

“I'm starting to think the punishment would be worth planting two in your skull, Stark.  But then I start thinking, if I get you to Pierce alive, maybe he lets me help break you.  That thought's what keeps me going these days.”

 

“Maybe if you're a good little brain for Pierce, he'll let you have your boyfriend as a reward.  Bet you'd like that, huh?”

“I'm going to kill you,” Tony said calmly.  “I don't care what happens to your Hydra buddies, but you, personally, I'm going to kill.”

 

“We've lost control of the asset,” the person on the other end of the com said.  “Repeat, we have lost control of the asset.  Asset is hostile, we are all fucked!  Somebody get a message off to Command, now!”

“Can't- external coms are down,” someone else piped up.  “Shit, shit, what the fuck did Stark _do_?”

“All of you, quit bitching,” Rumlow snapped.  “Get Zola in a pod and off this ship, dump the goddamn databanks, then find the asset and blow his brains out.  I've got Stark, do not send anyone down here.  Understood?”

There was a ragged chorus of affirmatives to the background noise of gunfire and cursing.

“Just out of curiosity,” Rumlow said, switching off his comm, “What _did_ you do?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Tony said.  “You fucked yourselves over on this one- all I did was let it happen.”

 

[Rumlow tries to use Tony as a bargaining chip; Tony puts some of his self-defense courses to use, first Bucky/Tony kiss is had] 

 

“Ask him yourself- one dose of this, and your boytoy's dead.  My life worth his?”

“Oh, I could give my life to do the universe this favor, believe me,” Tony said.

 

[Boarders – who are Marvel heroes fighting against Hydra – check Bucky and Tony over and offer to let them join the fight]

 

“Dazzler,” the one with the bandolier of flash grenades and the fancy energy gun said, waving.  Her shipsuit was pristine white from her oxygen mask to her boots.  “Nice to meet you.”

 

[Tony takes control of the _Alpha Strike_ , explains that he needs to get back and oust Stane; Bucky declares he's going with him]

 

“I'll be fine; it won't take much to modify this old bird for a crew of one.”

“Two.”  James corrected.  “I'm coming with you.”

 

“Are you sure?”

James gave him a lopsided smile.  “I think Hydra's been the center of my life for long enough, don't you?”  He asked.  “I can think of better things to focus on right now.”

Tony was forty-two goddamn years old; he did _not_ blush.  He looked down and to the side and smiled probably _the_ goofiest smile since the Second Diaspora, but he did not blush.

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “So can I.”

 

[open ending is had because these notes are already three pages long and I'm tired]

 

The _Valkyrie_ departed, armed with all the data Tony and Jocasta had managed to scrounge from _Alpha Stike'_ s computers and those Hydra goons (un)fortunate enough to have survived being boarded.  They'd make better time and had less distance to cover before they could get their info and prisoners into hands more suited to use them, and alert what authorities needed alerting so Tony would have backup when he caught up to Stane.

Tony cobbled together a very basic AI to take over most of the systems, and made a mental note to refine it once he was home, because it had a lot of potential, and also he thought he might have managed to route around the usual rampancy issues.  James spent most of his time on the bridge, which now sported a plush nest of blankets and flat pillows alongside a rack of most of the portable arms from the armory.

Stuck using FTL for short hops and having to remain at speeds where the cloaking could be used otherwise, it was going to be a long ride home.  Considering Tony intended to leave the piloting up to his baby AI and spend as much time as possible nestled up to James, he figured it probably wouldn't be _too_ unbearable.

He sat back in the captain's chair with a sigh, stretching lazily.  They were already on course, and anything short of another attack – not likely, now that Tony'd gotten rid of the excess weapon systems and upgraded the shielding – the AI should be able to handle just fine.

“How's it going?” James asked from the blanket nest.

“I'm done here,” Tony reported.  “Just gotta sit back and enjoy the ride now.”

 

“I can't wait to introduce you to my assistant; she's going to hate me forever.”


	4. A Different Angle (gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essentially just a rewrite of Iron Man II with Clint as the undercover agent instead of Natasha.

“Send an attractive woman to spy on a known womanizer,” Coulson said, sighing.  “I'm sure no one's ever tried _that_ on Stark before, sir.”

“Agent Romanov is one of the best profilers SHIELD has,”

“And you might as well send her in naked with HONEY TRAP painted on her ass,” Clint said bluntly.  He wasn't a handler, he was allowed to be crude, and he knew Fury valued him enough to let him get away with it.  “Sorry, Nat.”

Natasha didn't even look up from cleaning her knife.  “For once, sir, I agree with Barton,” she said.  “Stark knows his reputation; _any_ attractive woman is a potential trap, and would be treated like one.  I can't give you an accurate profile if he never lets his walls down.”

“And why would he let those walls down around Barton?”

“Because I'm dumb muscle with a pretty face, sir,” Clint said.  “Everyone's more relaxed around dumb muscle with a pretty face.”

 

 

“No.”

“I want one.”

“Tony, no.”

“Are you looking at those arms, Pepper?  Because I am looking at those arms.”

“You're looking at a sexual harassment lawsuit if you don't stop ogling him.”

 

 

 

“Are you _Googling_ him?”

“I thought I was ogling him.  Have you ever competed in the Archery World Cup?  He's competed in the Archery World Cup.  Semifinalist.  Explains the arms.”

 

 

“If this was going to be the last birthday you ever have, what would you do?”

“Everything in my power to make sure it wasn't.”

“What if there was no way?  What if your time was up and you knew it?”

Paris smiled as he turned around.  There was something dangerously sharp-edged about it, almost animal.  “I'm not the 'go quiet into that gentle night' type, Mr. Stark,” he said.

“You're ruining all my plans,” Tony complained as Paris set down his drink.

“If you're so unsure of your plans that me not being a quitter ruins them, maybe they're bad plans.”

“You are a terrible PA.”

“Or a very good one.  Drink your martini, Mr. Stark.”

 

 

The door opened on Francis, who was for some reason shirtless.  “Hey, Miss Potts.  Can I help you with something?”

Pepper tried to get her mouth working right, because she had seen shirtless men before, but Francis's shirts did a _very_ good job of hiding his muscles, and she wasn't prepared for them.

“My eyes are up here, Miss Potts,” he said after a moment.  When she jerked her gaze up, he was smiling slightly.  “Sorry for shocking you; Mr. Stark spilled his drink on me when he passed out.”

“Passed out?” Pepper repeated.

“Yeah.  Don't worry, I'm pretty sure it's just exhaustion.  He's been pushing himself lately.  I think it might be a good idea to postpone the birthday party, if that's okay with you- I'd rather not wake him up if I don't have to.”

 

 

Francis – Barton – Paris – whatever the fuck his name was – set a syringe on the table, pushing it toward Tony.

“Are you offering me drugs?”

“Yes,” Spyboy said bluntly.  “Specifically, lithium dioxide.  It won't cure you, but it'll take care of your symptoms so you can find the cure yourself.”

“And I get it... why?”

“Because we need you alive, Stark,” Fury said

 

“I don't trust you.”

“You fell asleep in the same room as me.  That implies a certain level of trust.”

“Would you fall asleep in the same room as me?”

“No.  But then I wouldn't fall asleep in the same room as him, either,” Barton said, jerking his thumb at Fury, “So don't feel too special.”


End file.
